(Blogger's spellchecker screwed up a few words so if by chance there are a few melded words, extra letters at the end of words, or anything else that looks out of place...it's Blogger's fault and I got tired of re-reading and fixing.)
I've been going through a lot of the pictures that I've taken on my digital camera. Recently I took a few of places/things that are important to me, that have changed from how I wish to remember them. A few years back I had intended to take a bunch of pictures of everything about the farm that was significant to me, I waited too long; never ever hesitate on moments like this. Just in case it gets confusing, the description for each picture is under the picture. One more thing, whenever I say "we" or "us" I am talking about the five grandchildren; from youngest to oldest: my cousin Lucas, my brother Ryan, my cousin Veronica, my cousin Rachel, and myself. Our mother's are sisters and the farm we "grew up" on belonged to our maternal grandparents who live/lived near us here in Washington.
This is a poorly shot picture of the house my parents built...less than a year before they got divorced. Neither of them could afford to keep it so it was sold. The new owners (don't know how many owners had it after us) added the shop that you see in the back right of the picture (light colored building). The grass wasn't ever there [we weren't there long enough to grow any grass aside from on the "mound"(our septic tank which that shop was built on)], neither was the fence or those pretty trees next to the house...and the house was painted (same color as the shop), not wood paneled.
What you see now is what's left of Nana's (my grandma's) garden...nothing. What I can remember her growing were potatoes, little tiny ones. We used to have to chase the chickens out of the garden for Nana all the time because they dug up the potatoes. She also grew corn, sunflowers, poppies (we used to pick them after the petals were gone, let the "shells" dry out, then shake the seeds out and sprinkle them everywhere), carrots, squash, pumpkins, and she even had a rather large raspberry bush. There used to be two stacks of hay bails, one on either side of the side entrance to the garden. One year Nana turned them into "boats" for us; girls got one, boys got the other (not actual boats or even a boat shape, she just planted it in our minds and we went with it).
On the right is the house (used to be pink, gag me), to the left is the covered patio, and right smack-dab in the middle is where you see the skeleton of our old playhouse. My aunt, not the backstabbing-bitch, but I will admit she is a bitch as well, tore the playhouse, swing-set, and swinging bridge apart, added that metal gate and fencing so that her five bouviers (breed of dog) had a yard. Papa (grandpa), two uncles, and I think my dad built that playhouse for us. There was a fireman's pole and tire-ladder that lead to and from the upper level of the playhouse. A swinging rope-ladder, and climbing rope were on one of the sides, both leading to nothing but a beam but were still fun to climb on nonetheless. My brother once fell backward off one of the regular ladders that led to the top section. He tried to brace his fall and broke his wrist, just a little fun fact. Half of the bottom section of the playhouse had a sandbox, which was enclosed when we weren't playing in it because there were cats on the farm...you can imagine where that would have led had there been no cover. Course the cover didn't keep pincer bugs out... As I mentioned there was a swinging bridge as well, how many kids can brag about having one of those growing up? There was even a swing-set that sort of matched the playhouse, far better than one of those store bought plastic/metal ones.
This is one of two barns on the farm. I can remember it being full of hay, up to the rafters. We used to climb all the way up, when allowed of course, had we fallen we would have been greeted by a long drop to the cement floor or, if there was room, the back of Papa's truck. Our parents and aunts used to take a couple trucks and collect bailed hay from fields Papa cut that belonged to other people (I'm unclear on this, but it was either bought or traded for Papa cutting it all, I don't know for sure). It was something we always wanted to go and help with, but of course we were not strong enough, nor fast enough, and however helpful we might have intended to be, we'd only be in the way. To the left of this barn (facing it, as in the picture) was an enclosure for the sheep.
This is the second of the barns. Those cars were never there and the roof of course hadn't collapsed (that happened a few years ago). In fact right in front of that barn is where one of the bulls was enclosed, his name was Rover and at some point he became dinner, well several dinners of very, very tough beef. In between the two barns was another enclosed area for one bull (Rex, Rover's daddy, as we were told anyway) and two cows (Momma Cow, Rover's Mom, duh!, and Rover's sister-we didn't give her a name). Two the right of this barn was a huge enclosed area where maybe a dozen of cattle roamed. Not sure why there were three separate places but oh well. I remember the electric fencing and touching it lol, several times. There were two huge water troughs which coy, or maybe just goldfish, were kept to keep the water from getting too nasty. We used to hop in the bed of Papa's truck to take bails of hay to the cattle in the big enclosure and each of us was taught how to "tie up" the bailing twine, not a difficult task.
This is Papa's final resting place. I'm not sure how many of my relatives actually visit, and I'm pretty sure no one other than my friends know of my occasional visits. As you can see we don't do much upkeep, but we should, and since I'm pretty sure no one will, that "we" is going to have to be me. I loved him, he was my hero, he died just 13 days after my 12th birthday. Here's a short poem (about Papa) that I wrote way back when I first started writing poetry:
Papa
The unspoken words and fading memories
Have left me feeling empty inside.
The things I wish I had said or had done
Have left me wondering.
Your face isn'’t so clear to me anymore,
Your big hands and wonderful smile also fade.
I wish I could climb into your big lap,
I wish you could hold me in your arms.
I loved and adored you, why didn'’t I tell you?
You were always there and suddenly you were gone.
And this is my ex-uncle's final resting place. I say ex-uncle because my aunt (yes this time I'referringng to the backstabbing bitch, my mom's youngest sister) divorced him probably about a year before his death. Since he wasn't part of my family by blood, I have dubbed him "ex-uncle" though I believe this is the first time I've ever thought of him as my "ex-uncle". He is the father of my three cousins I mentioned in the beginning. For those of you who didn't notice the "deathday" of both Papa and my uncle...my uncle committed suicide less than a month after Papa died. As far as I know Papa's death was not in any way part of the reason for my uncle's suicide. My uncle was a police officer in town, I'm pretty sure he was depressed from the divorce (and now that I'm grown up and now how my aunt can be, I'm pretty sure she made his life a living hell, or more of one at least, after the divorce). Ah, the knowledge that comes with age...I would give some of it up.
This is MuuMuu's (my paternal granmother, as I named her, affectionately, because she always wore muu-muus that my mom made for her) final resting place. As you can see, she's in a wall...a huge wall, which is now full on the inside of thcemeteryry and soon to be full on the outside. Think I mentioned how it's possibly the second largest military cemetery...second to Arlington. My paternal grandparents live in California.
At the moment I'm in bizarre state of mind. The kind where I feel the next step is, well best described as, "angry-sad, emotional movie scene" mind-set. The one in which the character breaks shit, throws things around, can't feel any physical damage done to them. It starts off angry and fades to angry-sad leaving said character in a heaping pile on the floor/ground, body shaking from sobbing, a blubbering pile of nothing...ah, emotion.
Either I'm not close enough to the state of mind in which I could care less about breaking my own things and destroying my mom's house, or I just don't feel like being found this way and having to explain things.
It's hard to remember these places and people in their prime. Memories have been skewed a bit and new "stories" have been introduced to me that have changed how my memories should be. Luckily even these few pictures here of places time has forgotten manage to spark some good memories for me. I knew things would fade from me, and I understand, but I'm sure everyone has moments where you just have to dwell on old times, rummage through your mental pictures. One day, after Nana passes I will get ahold of every picture possible, especially those from before my mom was even born. I'm worried that when this day does come I may never see any of those pictures. A huge family falling out is inevitable, fights will occur, despite Nana's will, over who gets what. Even though my money-grubbing aunts, and possibly my mom will fight over the many valuable antiques and such, I know that out of spite, one of them will get their hands on the photos, which are probably worth absolutely nothing money-wise, and I'll never get a chance to see them. After Papa died, the shit hit the fan, as most of you know, but when Nana dies, the world will end. This isn't just a matter of me looking at only the dark side, this is me looking at what I know will happen, in fact, I am probably picturing it the best possible way it could play out...I've seen how this family operates and it ain't pretty.
Ah, hell, why don't I end this with a poem I wrote about my childhood with my cousins (also written back in my earlier poetry days, please ignore the blatant misuse of comas...):
Childhood
Running through the field,
Making up worlds of our own,
Day after day,
Kittens and truck rides,
Cooking and cartoons,
Rain or shine, the world was our own,
Treats and smiles,
Giggles from our bellies,
A nap in the afternoon,
Toys and costumes,
Who shall we be today?
Picnics in the sun,
Trips to the beach,
Remember the lion?
Sandcastles surrounded by pebbles,
Nets and 10cent butterflies,
Climbing apple trees,
Hay-bail forts,
Sweet raspberries tickling our tongues,
Baby animals stealing our attention,
String cheese and squeeze pops,
The shoe on the fence,
Summers from our past,
Gone but not forgotten.
No comments:
Post a Comment